The psychic, the consultant, and the soldier
by HighlyOveractiveImagination
Summary: Sherlock is called to America to solve a missing persons case, there he meets an unusual detective claiming to be a psychic. Sherlock has to (unfortunately) work with Shawn to solve the case. Shassie and Johnlock, don't read if you don't like slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello, I've been typing away on this Psych/Sherlock fanfic. Sorry if the chapters are a bit short. Reviews make my world go round so keep em' coming. Lots of love!**

**Oh, and I don't own Psych or Sherlock. Although I imagine if I did psych and several other shows would be mingling with Sherlock and driving him nuts.**

**Enjoy!**

John had been woken up by a lot of strange things in 221B Baker Street, the sound of explosions from experiments gone wrong, the wail of sirens as Lestrade pulled up in a police car with a case, or a particularly memorable moment when he had been woken up by Sherlock shouting at his skull. But never in a million years did John expect to be woken up by a painful prod to the ribs from… was that an umbrella?

John sat straight up in bed and stared at the looming figure of Mycroft standing next to his bed. All John could see was Mycroft's silhouette outlined by the light streaming in from the door. The effect was very unsettling, Mycroft wasn't a frightening person as John had indicated at their first meeting, but having him standing by John's bed was severely creepy and John was prepared to shout 'rape!' at any moment. Mycroft leant forward slightly and said

"Morning John, glad to see you're awake." John sat up and looked at the clock next to his bed. It read 5:36 AM. John gave Mycroft his best 'why the heck are you in my bedroom at 5 in the morning?' look. Mycroft just smiled at him with that fake smile he probably wore for signing peace treaties. John was just about to ask what he wanted when Sherlock came storming into the room.

"Mycroft! I already explained to you that I will not take the case and trying to appeal to me through my flat mate will not change that."

"On the contrary, I think John could easily change your mind if given the right incentive." Mycroft said still smiling.

"Mycroft I am not going to America for some boring government case no matter who asks me to do so." John rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat watching as Mycroft went back and forth in full sibling rivalry mode. Sherlock explained he was too busy (which was a complete lie) and Mycroft countered by explaining to Sherlock several times just how important the case was.

"What do you think John?" Mycroft asked turning away from Sherlock to address him. Sherlock's gave John an intense look letting John know if he said the wrong thing, Mrs. Hudson would find _his_ head in the refrigerator.

"Uh, I'm going to stay out of this one if that's alright." John said, doing his best to hold a neutral expression, although he was on Sherlock's side, he would always be on Sherlock's side.

"Nonsense John. As you have no doubt heard, this is a matter of national security. Surely a man such as yourself wouldn't stoop so low as to put your country into danger?" Mycroft said.

Bull's-eye, the patriotic soldier within John came forth to protest

"Now hang on just a minute-"

"Good, there is a flight for you to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. Don't be late." And with that Mycroft swept out of John's room and down to the black car waiting for him on the street. John sat there for a moment, stunned. His eyes finally wandered over to meet Sherlock's, and if looks could kill, John was pretty sure he would be chopped up into little tiny pieces and distributed through the alleyways of London.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hello! Sorry if this chapter is kind of all over the place. No ownage of Sherlock, except in my imagination.  
Please review!**

Sherlock had lost, and he knew that, but that didn't mean he had to accept it. He left John's room and stalked away to lie on the couch. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, conjuring up a thousand ways to kill Mycroft inside his mind palace. He could hear John moving around in his room upstairs and it took a considerable amount of willpower not to envision John getting dressed, Sherlock distracted his mind from those thoughts by thinking of different ways to kill Mycroft with his own umbrella. John finally came down the stairs a few minutes later looking much fresher than before, not that Sherlock minded the way early morning John looked.

"Listen Sherlock, I didn't-" John started, looking guilty.

"Never mind that John, I have no doubt Mycroft would've sent me to America on this case regardless of what you said. Even if it meant shipping me there in a wooden crate." They both smiled at that, Sherlock loved it when John smiled. Sherlock shook himself slightly, pushing those strange thoughts about John to the back of his mind palace. That space had become more and more crowded with unusual thoughts of John as of late.

"Well then, mind telling me what the case is about?" John said going into the kitchen to make himself some tea.

"One of Mycroft agents went missing while on a highly top secret mission in Santa Barbara. Apparently the agent had a lot of knowledge on a lot of things that Mycroft doesn't want anyone else to know about, including us." Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"What was the guy's name?" John asked.

"Classified."

"Well what was he doing in Santa Barbara?"

"Classified." Sherlock said with a sigh. John sighed as well and sat down in his chair.

"Is there anything we are allowed to know?" John asked.

"The man's code name was Knox." Sherlock said, giving the ceiling a glare of distaste.

"Well, we better pack then." John said with a shrug and headed off to his bedroom to do just that.

The flight was awful, John found out rather quickly that Sherlock detested airplanes, the first hour of the flight Sherlock made random deductions about people while John tried in vain to sleep. After that Sherlock solved a few of the cold cases he had brought along (John would have to do something really nice for Lestrade to pay him back for that) but unfortunately Sherlock's muttering and random exclamations of realization prevented John from sleeping. Finally Sherlock disappeared into his mind palace and John finally managed to fall asleep.

Sherlock was going over facts in his head as he often did in cases of extreme boredom when he felt something warm fall onto his shoulder. He turned his head carefully to see that John had fallen asleep and was breathing peacefully, his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock considered waking him up, but decided against it. He thought about trying to push him over gently without waking him but vetoed that as well. Then Sherlock realized he had been staring at John for a considerable amount of time, but for some reason he didn't stop doing it. He began to catalogue things, John's smell, like airport coffee, shampoo, and something unidentifiable that Sherlock classified as being simply 'John'. The way his breath went in and out, the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body next to him. Sherlock did this until he felt his eyelids droop, something he didn't often feel, and allowed his head to lean gently against John's. With that he fell asleep, smiling ever-so-slightly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Hey, Shawn and the others finally decided to make an appearance! And yes I say that as though I don't have any control over it. My hands type these things of their own accord while I'm sleeping I swear! No, I don't own Sherlock and it's probably a good thing too.  
Please review!**

Shawn loved his police scanner. It was right up there with pineapple and video games. Ok maybe not pineapple, after all, nothing could compare to pineapple. Shawn was currently on his way to a crime scene, Gus was currently on his way to becoming a very funny 'would you like some cheese with your whine?' joke when they both pulled up to the motel where the victim Shawn had heard about on the scanner had been staying. The moment the Blueberry stopped Shawn leapt out of it and went up the motel steps, taking two at a time. Shawn knew he was being overly excited for a simple missing person's case, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't really all that excited about the case, he was more excited to see a certain special someone who he was pretty sure he was falling in love with. Shawn ducked under the crime scene tape on the door and looked around, a huge grin on his face. That's when he saw the person he had been looking forward to seeing all day.

"Spencer!" Head detective Carlton Lassiter came stalking toward him looking severely pissed. Shawn smiled; Lassiter always looked so cute when he was mad.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lassiter grabbed Shawn by the arm and forcefully steered him over the corner of the room.

"I divined that you guys needed my help, and since I couldn't tell if it was for a case or because you were in danger I came over as fast as I could." Shawn said, placing his fingers by his temple as he spoke.

"Shawn!" Juliet said, a big smile on her face she came over to meet him.

"I'm glad you're here we really need you on this one, we've got nothing." Shawn grinned and began to look around the crime scene when Buzz came and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry Shawn but the chief said she needs you back at the precinct right away." Shawn frowned slightly at that.

"She said to get all of you, something about the UK."

Shawn arrived later than everyone else at the precinct, having stopped for ice cream along the way; he was immediately greeted by the chief, who smiled at him to say thanks for the help. Shawn started to say hello but the chief waved him off.

"Sorry Shawn can't talk right now. Got someone waiting to speak to me in my office." And with that she rushed off to her office. Shawn walked onto the main floor to see a tall man in a black suit with a white shirt underneath sitting in Lassiter's chair, his hands pressed together by his lips as though he were praying. _Uh oh _Shawn though as he saw Lassiter come around the corner, his eyes falling on the man with dark curly hair who was currently seated in his chair.

"Hey! That's my desk!" Lassiter marched angrily towards the man who shrugged in response.

"This desk is technically property of this precinct, which is in turn property of your government. It in no way belongs to you or anyone here for that matter." The tall dark-haired man said, he had a deep British accent and piercing grey eyes that stared defiantly into Carlton's beautiful icy blue ones. Lassiter opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the man.

"I am in no mood to deal with your possessiveness over a desk which isn't even yours." The man said

"I know you are trying to compensate for your insecurities by being protective over your work area but I really do not need to hear it." Shawn didn't like this guy at all, he was insulting Lassie, and that is _so_ not cool.

"Hey, I am not-" Carlton started.

"Insecure? You went through a bad divorce several years ago but it still eats at you because you believe it was your fault and could have saved the marriage had you been given the chance. You were recently in a relationship with someone, most likely on the opposite side of the law as you judging by the hideous orange jumpsuit the woman in the photograph in your wallet is wearing. Unfortunately you left her because you currently are in love with someone else." Shawn couldn't help notice that Lassiter became very suddenly pale and his eyes widened in fear. Shawn had known that Lassiter and Marlowe had broken up but the fact that Lassiter had left _her _and not the other way around was a surprise. Gus's eyebrows went up next to him and he licked his ice cream. Shawn felt his stomach tighten and his own eyes widen, not so much in shock or interest as in hope. The ridiculous hope that whoever Lassiter might've dumped Marlowe for could be him.

"It's definitely someone you work with and is here now based on your reaction." The man stood up and stood face to face with Lassiter, Shawn could almost swear that Lassiter's eyes looked almost… pleading. The man continued to speak anyways.

"Let's see…" The tall man scanned the room with his pale grey eyes and when they fell upon Shawn they gleamed in triumph. Shawn's heart stopped and the man opened his mouth to speak.

"Sherlock!" Came another voice with a British accent from behind Lassiter. Everyone whirled to see a short man with sandy blonde hair walking towards them, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Bloody hell, how much damage have you done this time?" The man asked. Shawn could see he was ex-military; no one walks that straight or with that good of posture without some sort of training. One look at Lassiter's face and the man growled angrily. He grabbed the man Shawn now knew as Sherlock by the collar of his jacket and dragged him away from the staring crowd. Lassiter looked severely shaken but shook it off and laughed, he still sounded slightly nervous.

"What a nutbag, I think we finally found someone even crazier than Shawn!" Lassiter jerked his thumb in Shawn's direction. Shawn's already freaked out heart skipped a beat. Although Carlton hadn't noticed he had called Shawn by his first name. Shawn looked over at Sherlock who was being scolded by the shorter man. Oddly enough he looked slightly ashamed, even though he hadn't even noticed Lassiter's attempt to put him down, the man he was with seemed to have a strong effect on him. That settled it; Shawn was going to have to speak with Sherlock about Lassiter's secret love first chance he got.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I know all of you probably don't give a crap about the author so you skip right over these notes. But I write them for my own satisfaction so you'll just have to deal with one for every chapter. MUAHAHAHAHA!  
Please review!**

Sherlock didn't like it when John was mad at him; it always made him feel as though he had swallowed a ten pound weight. Sherlock had catalogued this highly unpleasant feeling and stashed away more times than he would like to count. John let out an exasperated sigh and just said

"Not good Sherlock, really not good." And walked away to apologize to the chief. Sherlock had never been concerned whether or not the comments he made were good or not before he met John and despite that he still hated it when John wasn't there. It had been hell without John those three years after he had faked his death. He shuddered at the memory; the image of John crying at his grave came up in his mind and made him shudder. He was glad John had let him back into his life, because he honestly believed he wouldn't have been able to survive without him. It gave a whole new meaning to "I'd be lost without my blogger." Sherlock moved to follow John to the chief's office but was stopped by the man he'd offended. Head Detective Carlton Lassiter if the name plate on his desk was correct.

"Head Detective, I should probably apologize for my earlier behavior." Sherlock said trying to look remorseful; it was a look he was not very well acquainted with.

"Listen, I promise to forget it if you promise not to tell anyone about Shawn." The Detective knew that Sherlock knew, he was a good deal smarter than Sherlock had initially assumed.

"So that's his name?" Sherlock asked raising one dark eyebrow.

"Yes, now promise me you won't tell him, or anyone else." The detective gave Sherlock a hard look and Sherlock nodded. The head detective relaxed and walked over the chief's door, Sherlock made a mental note of the promise and followed.

John did not like it when Sherlock made enemies, and he made enemies a lot. John hoped the victim of Sherlock's latest 'deductions' (which is a polite way to say insults) would be forgiving towards him. Because Sherlock really did not need any more enemies; At least he was a cop, so John wouldn't have to worry about him tying Sherlock up and hanging him from the ceiling. John shuddered at the memory, after that John made Sherlock promise not to insult possible serial killers ever again. John sighed inwardly as Sherlock walked up next to him. They were in the office of the Santa Barbara Police Department's chief with the man Sherlock had insulted, a pretty blonde woman, the chief, and two out of place men. The chief was explaining how things would be working with them on the case.

"You will be treated as unpaid consultants, so no special privileges, no access to police files unless given permission, and you will not be given badges or anything similar." The chief didn't seem very happy about having a couple of British detectives working on the case.

"You'll be working with our own local consultants, Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster." She gestured to the two men in the corner who both grinned and bumped fists.

"Mr. Spencer is a psychic." Now John understood why the chief wasn't happy about Sherlock being there. Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster looked like they might be quite a handful as it was, not to mention one of them being 'psychic'. Sherlock humphed skeptically and gave Shawn the patented Sherlock once over, no doubt learning everything about the man from a single glance. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but John nudged him in warning.

"Head Detective Carlton Lassiter has been assigned to keep an eye on you, as requested by the British government." Sherlock groaned in unison with Detective Lassiter, Mycroft had obviously set it up due to the severe lack of DI Lestrade.

"Here are your case files, if you need anything ask Detective Lassiter." She handed out some folders containing information on the missing man, most of which Sherlock and John already knew from Mycroft's file.

"O'Hara, I'm assigning you to another case for the time being. The rest of you go get to work." With that everyone except for the pretty blonde woman left the chief's office. Shawn jogged up next to John and grinned broadly.

"Hi, I'm Shawn, the psychic. What's you guy's names?" He said, extending his hand which John shook firmly.

"John Watson." Shawn beamed at him and reached across John to try and shake Sherlock's hand. Sherlock shook it and smiled tightly.

"Holmes, Sherlock Holmes." Both men giggled and Sherlock frowned.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing." They said between giggles. Detective Lassiter just rolled his eyes and John shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. Shawn and his friend (whose name John had already forgotten) got into a small blue car and Lassiter got into his navy blue Toyota. Sherlock climbed into the driver's seat of the large, and probably bulletproof, jeep Mycroft had gotten them. Apparently Sherlock knew how to drive in America, because he nearly gave John a heart attack when he began to drive on the wrong side of the road, or at least what John thought was the wrong side; which turned out to be the right side according to Sherlock.

"Americans, they have to do everything differently than the rest of the world, don't they." John breathed, Sherlock smiled and they drove in silence to the crime scene.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: I know I should probably be devoting my time to something the rest of the world considers productive, but this is more fun. Hope it's just as fun for you as it is for me.  
Please review!**

When they arrived there the first thing John noticed was how absolutely hideous the hedge out front was. The motel wasn't exactly the Four Seasons to begin with (John would know because that happened to be the hotel Mycroft had booked them) but the hedge was an awful eyesore. It was most likely meant to block the view of the swimming pool from the street but the corner looked as though it had been trampled on by stampeding horses. The motel had maybe one or two people staying there and was obviously in bad shape. John had no idea why an agent why Mycroft's missing agent had stayed someplace as decrepit as this. Sherlock and John were the last to arrive, the psychic and his partner were already there and doing everything in their power to annoy detective Lassiter. He almost looked relieved to see John and Sherlock, almost. One of the guys on forensics approached Sherlock and opened his mouth to speak.

"Crime scene, don't contaminate it. We know." Sherlock cut him off.

"Well, just be careful." The man added.

"Yes, I already said, we know." Sherlock sighed and walked up the stairs while putting on some rubber gloves.

"Well John it seems we can't be rid of people like Anderson no matter where we go." John and Sherlock both chuckled and ducked under the crime scene tape into the wreck that was Knox's room. Sherlock went to work examining everything he thought needed examination; he flew about the room like a deductive tornado of black fabric and pale skin. John loved to watch Sherlock work, there was something almost magical about it that made John smile. Inwardly of course, it was a crime scene after all. Shawn and his friend came up on both sides of John and the man whose name John couldn't recall raised an eyebrow.

"So this is what it looks like when real detectives work?" He asked. John gave him a questioning glance then nodded uncertainly.

"Gus that is hurtful, I am as real as any detective." So Gus was his name. John wouldn't forget this time.

"You're a psychic detective; you once went around a crime scene acting like my head was a magnifying glass." John smiled; these two had obviously known each other for a _long _time.

"Gus, I was not acting. I was transferring a message from the spirit world; you know I'm not aware of what I'm doing when that happens." Gus just shook his head and crossed his arms. He looked like he might say something else but Sherlock shouted for John so Gus never got the chance.

"John, I believe I know how we may find Knox." Sherlock said triumphantly.

"Knox? Who's Knox?" Detective Lassiter had snuck up on them and everyone jumped except Sherlock.

"Our missing person, I believe he was taken by surprise but the door wasn't kicked in so it was either unlocked or he let them in. Judging by the garbage, he ate mostly take-out so I'd wager he opened the door thinking it was a delivery boy." Everyone looked at Sherlock in amazement. Shawn winced suddenly and put his fingers to his temple.

"He's right; I'm seeing laundry, laundry that doesn't belong to anyone at this motel, and it's the uniform for…" Shawn plunged his hand into the garbage and pulled out a take-out box.

"This restaurant." The box was from some Mexican restaurant called La Mariposa. Detective Lassiter sent one of his men to go check the laundry and John just stared. Psychic or not, if Shawn was right it would be pretty amazing. A few minutes later the forensic guy returned with the uniform Shawn had predicted. John gaped at Shawn; Sherlock just hummed and went back to his deductions.

"He was attacked by three or four men." Sherlock pointed to a spot on the carpet that was covered in crushed potato chips.

"Only one was visible through the front door though. The others were hiding off to the side." Shawn said placing both his hands by his head.

"There was a fight and Knox was dragged to the window." Sherlock walked up the window and opened it. Shawn threw himself over to where Sherlock was standing and stuck his head out the window.

"Then he was thrown out of the window into the pool." Shawn said, and Sherlock glared at him.

"Yes I was getting to that." Shawn ignored Sherlock and began to spin around and whirled his way straight into detective Lassiter who was immediately caught in an inescapable hug by the psychic. Shawn proceeded to drag the struggling detective out the door, down the stairs, and back behind the motel, with everyone following, to where the pool was before finally releasing his grip. Sherlock became increasingly impatient and began to examine the ground. Shawn and Sherlock both looked completely stuck, both of them stood there scratching their heads. Sherlock paced mumbled to himself and Shawn just stood there with his hands to his temples.

"Well this is quite the mess. It's no wonder this place has no customers." John said more to himself than anyone else. It really was, the earth was all churned up and there was of course the hedge.

"What?" Sherlock asked looking at John as though he had just said something unfathomable.

"I just said that this place looked like a mess, I mean look at that hedge. Someone may as well have run it over with their car." Sherlock whipped around to look at the hedge before turning back around and grinning like a madman at John.

"John, you are absolutely brilliant." Sherlock came over and grasped John by the shoulders.

"What?" John and everyone else didn't know what to make of that.

"Brilliant! You said it, everything is all torn up. And the hedge, you said it looked like a car ran it over?" Sherlock was still holding onto John which made it very difficult for John to focus on anything but that.

"Yeah." He managed to say.

"That's because it was!" Sherlock's grin grew even wider and he licked his lips. That made it even harder for John to focus, well he could focus, but he was focusing on Sherlock's lips and how they might feel to kiss rather than the task at hand. Shawn came to the realization before John and shouted something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like pineapple.

"The kidnappers threw our man out of the window and drove their car over here to pick him up!" Shawn went for a high five with Gus.

"Yes exactly, I doubt these tracks are good enough to get an imprint but there is a security camera above the pool that should have footage." Oddly enough Sherlock didn't let go of John or stop looking into his eyes with that smile that John loved so much. Shawn, Gus and detective Lassiter had already begun to walk back to the motel to ask for the tapes. Sherlock and John just stood there though, neither of them moving.

"We should probably go with them." John finally said. Sherlock nodded and removed his hands from John's shoulders. John was strangely disappointed by this but he jogged to catch up with the others anyway.

Sherlock thought if he were flexible enough to kick himself in the face, he would be doing so. He had been inches from John, 4.7 inches to be exact. Why had he not closed that distance, it would have been so easy. Just lean in and kiss, but he had not, thus the urge to kick himself. He came up beside the others in the lobby of the motel and gave Shawn another look over. He knew that Shawn was a fake, probably raised in a manner that promoted observant behavior suggesting he had close family members in law enforcement. Yet Shawn chose to act psychic, most likely an accidental choice in career, caused by a spur of the moment decision. Sherlock could obviously see that Shawn had been living in Santa Barbara for some time but at one point had traveled quite a bit. The motel manager was sitting lazily behind the front counter as most of the employees had been asked to vacate the crime scene. Shawn and Sherlock arrived at the counter at the same time and almost simultaneously asked for the security tapes from the camera overlooking the pool. Sherlock glared at Shawn and the manager just looked from one to the other, very confused. Lassiter came up next to Shawn and showed the manager his badge which set him in motion. He had the tapes in a few seconds and was already playing them on the computer screen when John and the others came in. The room was quite small so everyone had to squeeze in; Sherlock strategically placed himself so John would be forced up against him. So there they all stood, crammed up against each other and the manager played the tapes. Sherlock hadn't really thought about how his close proximity to John would affect his ability to focus, but it was too late now. The manager fast forwarded until Lassiter told him to stop, having seen Knox fall into the swimming pool, the manager hit play and the scene which Sherlock had deduced played out before them. The missing agent Knox was dropped into the pool by his unseen assailants and after floating there unconscious one man came and dragged him out of the water. Then a black SUV drove over the hedge and stopped so Knox could be thrown into the back seat before speeding off, back over the bush and off frame.

"License plate." Sherlock pointed to the vehicle's license plate and the manager zoomed in on it.

"I believe we have our kidnappers."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Perhaps I should stop saying 'please review'. I sound like I'm begging on the street corner. "Oh please kind sir, just one tiny review for a poor fan fiction addict."… Yeah, it's sad. Oh well, feel free to ignore my random notes, they are pretty nonsensical.  
Try and find it within your kind heart to donate a review!**

Lassiter couldn't believe he was stuck being babysitter for four grown men, two of which could tell you your whole life story just by looking at you, and one of those two he just happened to be in love with. Thankfully Shawn's so-called 'spirits' hadn't sent him any psychic messages about that yet, it had been a close one back at the precinct when Sherlock had almost revealed his secret in front of everyone. Yet even Lassiter's displeasure at being humiliated couldn't completely quash the admiration he felt for Sherlock. It was pretty incredible to see someone make those kinds of observations without any spiritual help that sent them into wild fits where they put their hands all over whoever was standing too close. And more often than not that person was Carlton, not that he minded having Shawn's hands all over him. Lassiter sighed as Shawn and Gus began yet another round of thumb war. The license plate on the car had sent them on a road-trip to Isla Vista, a town about an hour drive from Santa Barbara. Shawn had insisted that it would be more efficient if they all rode together and Sherlock's car seemed to be the biggest. Sherlock and John had merely shrugged and Lassiter was pretty sure Shawn just wanted the opportunity to ride in a truck that could probably survive being run over by a tank with barely a scratch. Sherlock and John sat in front, talking about how weird tea was in America. Lassiter had somehow wound up in the middle seat so Shawn and Gus were playing thumb war over his lap; and if things kept going this way then they would probably start playing go-fish on his thighs. Thankfully they arrived in Isla Vista just as Shawn pulled out a deck, Lassiter practically climbed over Shawn trying to get out of the truck. Once he stepped out of the jeep he understood why the men who had kidnapped Knox had fled here. It was sunny outside and slightly less smoggy than in Santa Barbara, the beach might have been nice if it weren't so crowded, and that was it exactly. Finding the kidnappers in this place with all the people and the overabundance of Bed & Breakfasts would be like finding a needle in a haystack. At least that's what Carlton thought until Sherlock pointed at one of the many B & B's lining the street and said.

"They're staying there." Lassiter, Shawn, Gus, and even John gave him a confused look. John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Mycroft." Was all Sherlock said, John seemed to understand and nodded in understanding before following Sherlock into the small Bed & Breakfast. All Lassiter could do was give Shawn a questioning glance, and Shawn just shrugged and went in. Despite its quaint outward appearance Sunny's B & B was about as cheesy as one could get in California, with plastic palm trees crammed into the small lobby, plastic beach chairs rather than waiting chairs, hammocks hanging from the ceiling, and a paint job of the most hideous yellow Carlton had ever seen. Why anyone would choose to stay here Carlton would never know. Sherlock was already wrangling with the owner for a list of people staying there. Shawn walked up beside him and cut him off.

"Allow me." Shawn brushed Sherlock aside and began to tell some elaborate story to the man behind the counter. Thankfully Carlton stopped him and showed the owner his badge; the others just gave him envious glances as the owner went to go get the list. Carlton loved the power his badge gave him, it was wonderful. The owner returned with a sheet of paper listing everyone who had been staying there in the last month. Sherlock traced his finger down the list before coming onto a group of four men who had checked in a few days ago.

"This group here, what can you tell us about them?" Sherlock said pointing to the name.

"Oh, them? They were nice enough, said they were here to celebrate their friends bachelor party." The owner looked at them uncertainly; clearly afraid business (or rather lack of) would be affected by whatever was happening.

"Which room are they staying in?" Sherlock asked.

"2nd floor, first door on the right; we don't have room numbers." The owner said handing Sherlock the key. Sherlock didn't spare the man a glance before dashing off, John thanked him and went running off after him with Lassiter, Shawn and Gus right behind. They burst into the room to see it completely empty, of anything. Any traces of the men being there were completely gone; it looked as though no one had ever been there. Sherlock looked confused for a moment and looked around for some trace of the so-called bachelors. Shawn suddenly doubled over, and Carlton's heart leapt into his throat. Shawn was just doing his psychic thing though and Carlton relaxed as Shawn stumbled around the room theatrically. Carlton always hated it when Shawn did that, it always made Carlton worry that Shawn was actually hurt and he didn't think he could take Shawn getting hurt. Shawn finally fell into a heap at his destination by the TV and was fumbling around with his eyes shut, looking for something. Sherlock sighed and walked over; he reached right over Shawn and picked up a piece of paper. It had something written on it and Shawn stood up and snatched it from Sherlock's hand with an indignant huff. Sherlock then grabbed it right back out of Shawn's hand and walked over to John. John read it and said

"It's the address for the Motel." Carlton mentally pumped his fist into the air in triumph and Shawn and Gus actually did it.

"There's our evidence." Carlton said.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: My computer hates me. It really does. It's all like "This is incorrect grammar" and "That is an improper use of a coma. Leave me alone computer! I don't care! AND SHERLOCK IS MOST DEFINITELY A REAL WORD! *sigh* I am surrounded by idiotic machinery.  
All reviews are appreciated, even small ones, so take a little extra time to drop one off please.**

Sherlock was more than a little pleased with himself, he had figured out more-or-less who was responsible for Knox's kidnapping. Although he was annoyed that Mycroft had helped, he had no doubt he could have figured it out without his help. But the main reason Sherlock was so pleased with himself was because after presenting the scrap of paper that was their key piece of evidence to the chief John had complimented him, five times. That alone was enough to make Sherlock feel as though he had conquered the world (though not really because that would probably be dreadfully boring). The forensics team was currently analyzing the room at Sunny's Bed and Breakfast but Sherlock had ideas of his own. He had managed to give detective Lassiter the slip and Shawn and Gus as well. So it was just John and Sherlock and Sherlock liked it that way. The facts were these:

Knox possessed knowledge that his kidnappers wanted, otherwise he would not have been kidnapped.

Knox was an agent working for Mycroft on a top secret mission in America. Therefore the chances of him releasing that information was slim to none.

Because of this he would no doubt be tortured and eventually killed. This was something Mycroft wanted to avoid at all costs.

All of that information gave Sherlock a vague idea of where they might be. He knew that most forms of torture involved quite a bit of screaming so in order to not be noticed the kidnappers would have to take Knox somewhere were people wouldn't notice that. Sherlock's initial thought had been somewhere far away where people wouldn't hear. This is what brought him and John to be driving on every road leading to an obscure location within two hours of Santa Barbara. They had been driving for almost five hours to no avail. There was either a camera that would have seen the license plate and alerted Mycroft or there were people who were close enough to hear any kind of unusual noises. Sherlock was beginning to get annoyed, unless the kidnappers had walked with Knox through the forest to some super-secret cabin they should have found them by now.

"Sherlock." John interrupted Sherlock's train of thought. Sherlock just kept looking ahead, fighting the urge to make some bullet holes in the windshield.

"You really shouldn't drive angry; I've heard it's just as bad as driving drunk." Sherlock looked over at John for the first time on the whole drive. For the last five hours he had just been staring straight ahead talking to John without really acknowledging him. When he did look at John he saw the tiredness immediately. John had dark bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. Sherlock felt suddenly guilty, he always seemed to forget that John was more susceptible to his basic needs; he couldn't block them out like Sherlock could. Sherlock went back to looking at the road and came to decision. He took the next exit and turned around so he was heading back towards Santa Barbara.

"Sherlock, where are we going?" John asked after a moment.

"We're going back to the hotel to get some proper sleep." Sherlock stated and John eyed him in confusion.

"Why?" John said cocking his head slightly. That motion always reminded Sherlock of an adorable puppy and made Sherlock want to hug John and never let him go. But he was driving do he resisted the urge and answered

"Because you're tired." John opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock cut him off.

"No I myself am not tired, but if you are unable to function due to lack of sleep there isn't much I can accomplish. You really are quite invaluable." John smiled and muttered thank-you before he began to doze off, snoring a little bit.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Oh Shawn, you can be such a dork sometimes. Oops, I just typed that. Just my thoughts on the second episode of Psych season seven. Also some serious hilarity from Lassiter, I think the writers of the show caught on that Shawn and Lassie are quite a cute couple. Took them long enough.  
Don't be a dork like Shawn and leave a review!(please)**

"Upsy-Daisy!" Was the first the first thing John heard the next morning. The impossibly loud command was enough to make anyone jump but John was very close to the edge of the bed and fell right out onto the floor. He picked himself up and the voice shouted again.

"Good morning gentlemen! It's time to get out of bed; we've got a kidnapping to solve!" John winced at the booming voice and exited his room. The hotel room that Mycroft had supplied them was extravagant with a mini-fridge that not even Harry could have emptied. John had a room all his own and a bathroom as did Sherlock. So John was very surprised to see Shawn, Gus and Lassiter seated in the living room. Shawn grinning broadly into a megaphone John didn't see Sherlock though. Then he saw a little too much Sherlock because the one thing the room seemed to be lacking was regular sized towels, it only had mini towels and that was currently all that Sherlock was wearing. Sherlock ignored most of his basic needs sleeping, eating, maintaining his health; but the one need Sherlock did submit to was hygiene, and John was very thankful for it. Because even though Sherlock was a wreck health-wise, at least he didn't smell bad. John wasn't particularly grateful at the moment because Sherlock was just barely covered all the way; the little towel slung around his hips only just covered Sherlock's unmentionables. John tried to swallow the urge to either oops! Trip and sneak a peek under the towel or Sherlock! And 'accidentally' pull off the towel while shoving Sherlock to his bedroom to get dressed. In the end John just stood there, feeling as though his innards had just fallen out of him and all over the floor. Sherlock just stood there too, his black hair plastered to his face on one side and sticking almost straight up on the other. Shawn and Gus laughed and Lassiter tried his hardest not to but John just stood there admiring the view. Sherlock humphed and stalked off to his room to put on some clothes and John tried very hard not to gaze at his backside as he walked away. A few minutes later they were all crammed into the jeep again, having opted to stay together while investigating (no doubt because of the disappearing act Sherlock had pulled the night before). John was still tired but not as much as he might've been had Sherlock not decided to let John get some sleep. Sherlock explained the theory he had developed the night before and everyone nodded in agreement.

"Just out of curiosity, who is Mycroft?" Gus asked from the backseat.

"Sherlock's brother." John and Shawn answered at the same time. Before John knew what was happening Shawn had jinxed him and he apparently couldn't speak until someone said his name. John thought the idea was ridiculous but played along. And much to John's dismay, so did Sherlock. As they drove around, trying to figure out where Knox might be Lassiter got a phone call. After a few minutes Lassiter hung up and stated that the people on forensics hadn't found anything at the room. Everyone sat there, not sure how to proceed, they had nothing to go on, and they were stuck.

"Why don't you give Jules a call, maybe she has an idea." Shawn suggested after a moment. Lassiter just shook his head.

"O'Hara is pretty toast at the moment. She was up late investigating a murder at some club." Lassiter said with a sigh.

"I hate those places, they're so loud. People there probably wouldn't notice someone being strangled to death five feet away from them." Shawn said with a distasteful frown. That's the precise moment an idea occurred to John. He began to speak when Shawn cut him off.

"Someone still has to say your name." John grunted at him furiously and began to make mmming noises like he was talking with his mouth closed. Sherlock smiled and took pity on him.

"What is it John?" He asked with a smile and Shawn awwed disappointedly from the back.

"That's it!" John exclaimed excitedly. Sherlock just frowned at him. John grinned at the prospect of knowing something Sherlock didn't. "A club! It's so loud I bet no one would notice someone being tortured in the basement no matter how loud they screamed." Sherlock hit the brakes so hard everyone lurched forward and John hit his head on the dashboard. Everyone in the car beamed at John, especially Sherlock. Shawn and Gus bumped fists while Lassiter grinned in triumph. Sherlock smiled even wider and said

"John, I do believe you've solved it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: Warnings of some sadness ahead (if my writing isn't too bad). I know Psych is mostly comedy but where would we be without the occasional Santabarbaratown or Mr. Yin Presents? We'd be far too happy! And that is unacceptable.  
Don't get the wrong Idea though, I love you all. Please review!(yes, I'm back to begging)**

For the second time in Sherlock's trip to America he could've kissed John. And unfortunately for the second time on the trip he didn't. Although no one would know it when they looked at him, John was brilliant. Not Sherlock brilliant, but far smarter than almost anyone else Sherlock had ever interacted with. Sherlock told Lassiter to look up all the clubs in the area that had basements. Lassiter nodded and pulled out his phone to call Juliet at the precinct. After a few minutes Lassiter nodded and hung up.

"Juliet says there are only three clubs with basements in the area you gave us." Sherlock yanked on the wheel and began to drive in the direction of the first one. John told Sherlock to not drive like a madman but Sherlock was far too excited not. They arrived at the club, High Octane, and Sherlock didn't even bother to park, he just pulled up next to it and leapt out. He tugged on the doors but the closed sign meant they wouldn't be unlocked for at least four hours. Sherlock knelt down and was about to pick the lock when Lassiter grabbed his shoulder.

"You better not be doing what I think you're doing." Lassiter growled, Sherlock glared at him and tucked his lock-picking kit into his coat. So Sherlock began to pace, and he paced, and paced, and paced. Eventually he complained to Lassiter that the kidnappers had seen them and had probably already escaped. After an hour it became too much for Sherlock to bear and he tried picking the lock anyways. In the end Lassiter was forced to physically restrain him. A few hours later the owner of the club arrived and Sherlock gave him the most disgusted glare he could muster, which was only down-graded slightly by the makeshift gag in his mouth. The owner unlocked the door when Lassiter flashed his badge and Sherlock made noises of protest as the others entered the club.

"Shouldn't we uncuff him?" John asked, looking slightly concerned. Shawn and Gus shook their heads but Lassiter walked over and unlocked the handcuffs. Sherlock dashed into the club the moment he was free and went immediately in search of the basement glancing around eagerly, like a dog on the hunt. He barely noticed John's voice behind him, trying to get his attention. Sherlock caught sight of the others reflection in one of the many televisions. Sherlock spotted John by a nearly invisible door in the back corner and his heart stopped. There was a wire, a wire so thin and small only Sherlock could have seen it. John was reaching for the handle of the door and Sherlock knew what was about to happen before it did. Sherlock spun around and screamed for John to stop, but it was too late. Sherlock knew that he would be fine, he was far enough away he should be alright as long as the building's infrastructure was sound. Lassiter, Shawn, and Gus were also at a safe distance, they too would survive. But John, John was right next to were the disaster was about to occur and there was nothing Sherlock could do to save him.

KABOOM!

The entire building erupted in sound and Sherlock was thrown to the ground. Glass shattered and anything that wasn't nailed down was sent crashing into the walls and floor. Sherlock's ears were ringing from the blast and he faintly registered Gus and Shawn lying on the floor by the entrance. Lassiter had clearly thrown his body over Shawn's to shield him from the blast, taking the brunt of the shockwave. Sherlock picked himself up off the floor and began to stumble in the direction he had last seen John. What was left of the door was burning several meters from where it had once been and everything around there was cracked and blackened by the blast. Then Sherlock saw John, a curled up bundle of fabric lying completely still by the wall. Sherlock ran to him and rolled him onto his back, he wasn't breathing. John didn't look too damaged on the outside; the door had absorbed most of the blast, shielding John from much of the physical damage. But as Sherlock took John's pulse he knew that the shockwave had been enough to stop John's heart. Sherlock began to pump on John's chest counting to five before plugging John's nose and breathing air into John's immobile lungs. Sherlock heard screaming and tried to figure out where it was coming from before he realized it was him who was screaming. He was shouting at John to wake up, please, please, oh god wake up.

"Please John wake up. Just open your eyes you can do it. Please. Oh god, John wake up. Don't die, please." Sherlock didn't care that there were tears streaming down his face, he didn't care about anything except John.

"Open your eyes dammit! You are John Hamish Watson! You survived being shot in Afghanistan, you survived being my flat mate for all these years, you survived Moriarty, and you survived me faking my death! You are not going to die because of some stupid explosion!" Sherlock continued to apply CPR and John continued to not wake-up. Sherlock allowed his head to fall to John's chest and he whispered into the smoldering folds of John's coat five words.

"Don't die, I love you." And John breathed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: Good morning/afternoon/evening. I hope you are well _(Insert name here). Oh, me? I'm good thanks for asking, but I'm not really all that important. You are, so be sure to eat healthy, get lots of sleep and be sure to have your daily dose of fan fiction.  
How's about you leave a review to celebrate our health?**

Lassiter had never seen a man in as much pain as Sherlock Holmes as he was crying over John Watson's unmoving body. Lassiter had thrown himself over Shawn the moment the bomb had gone off and wasn't feeling too great because of it. But the moment Lassiter saw Sherlock kneeling beside John he forgot about any injuries he might have sustained. Sherlock was applying CPR and shouting at John desperately. That's when Lassiter knew, knew that Sherlock was in love with John, because although he had never seen a man in as much pain as Sherlock, he had been that man. He had been in the exact same place as Sherlock for that breathtaking moment when Shawn's eyes had closed after he had been shot by Garth Longmoor. He had been there when Shawn was almost killed by Dremer. He had felt as Sherlock did when Shawn had collapsed to the ground on stage when his appendix burst. Lassiter had felt that same way countless times and knew that Sherlock had to love John at least as much as Lassiter loved Shawn, if not more. He knew that Sherlock would take on an army to save John, because Sherlock knew there was nothing to live for without him. Lassiter was scared John wouldn't wake up; because he knew that Sherlock wouldn't survive that, he would die right then and there. Maybe not physically, but for Sherlock the world would cease to spin because John wasn't there to make it go round any more. But the world was kind that day so John breathed and his heart beat once again. Lassiter gave Sherlock a pat on the back, the most he could muster without being awkward. Lassiter saw how terrified Sherlock was and walked over to Guster.

"Guster, could you take Sherlock to the hospital? He doesn't look like he's in much of a state to drive." Lassiter whispered and Gus nodded. He directed Sherlock to the car and followed the ambulance as it drove to the hospital. Oddly enough the close call with John had got Carlton thinking about his current status with Shawn. What if Shawn was standing too close to an explosion one day? What if Shawn's heart stopped beating? And what if it didn't start up again like John's had? Lassiter didn't want that to happen, not without telling Shawn how he really felt. He just wished it weren't so damn hard! He was scared; yes the emotionally impenetrable man of stone that was Carlton Lassiter was scared.

"Hey Lassie." Shawn's voice interrupted Lassiter's thoughts and he turned to face him.

"I just wanted to say thanks. For, y'know… protecting me and all." Shawn wasn't meeting Lassiter's eyes as he spoke but Lassiter didn't even notice.

"Oh yeah, no problem." Lassiter smiled at Shawn, which was highly out of character. Lassiter usually tried to act as though he didn't like Shawn but he was out-of-sorts from the explosion. Shawn shuffled his feet and a blush crept up his neck, the conversation was becoming very awkward, very fast.

"So… after we solve this case would you like to maybe… oh, I don't know… get some coffee, or dinner, or something?" Lassiter was pretty sure he'd had a hernia. He was almost positive if he looked down he could see his stomach and intestines. But he didn't look down; he kept on looking into Shawn's warm hazel eyes. Lassiter wanted to scream yes for the whole world to hear, but he needed to be sure.

"Y-you mean like a date?" Lassiter could barely contain his hope. Shawn broke the eye contact and blushed deep scarlet.

"Never mind, forget I asked." Shawn stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to walk away but Lassiter grabbed him by the arm.

"Wait." Shawn looked at Lassiter and Lassiter tried to tell Shawn how he felt with his eyes, tried to express the emotions that had been building over the years. He wanted Shawn to see just how much he cared about him but he couldn't find the right words, so he just said

"I would love to." Shawn's face lit up and he grinned broadly, Lassiter smiled slightly. It was a start. Lassiter turned and walked through the smoking hole in the wall to the room where Knox was supposedly being held. Shawn hesitated for a moment before jogging after Carlton.

"Wait a minute, I didn't say if it was a date or not." Shawn said with a frown. Lassiter chuckled and said two words while entering the room.

"Doesn't matter."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Apparently it took John getting blown up in order for Shawn and Lassie to get together. That's a little sad, but way to take one for the team John!  
This team could use a little cheering on, so leave a review.**

Sherlock felt like he was dying inside, Gus was driving him to the hospital but Sherlock didn't feel like he was in the car. He felt like he was buried six feet down, still alive, pounding desperately on the walls of a cramped coffin, screaming for someone to help him as the air ran out and the walls closed in on him. Sherlock was so scared John wouldn't be alright, he had been listing off different injuries John could have received from the blast: Collapsed lungs, cracked ribs, broken ribs, concussions, lacerations, permanent scarring, nerve damage, shrapnel damage, burns, bruises, brain damage, fractures, broken bones, optical damage, retrograde amnesia, auditory damage, the list went on and on and on. Finally they arrived at the hospital and Sherlock burst out of the car. He ran into the building as fast as his legs would take him and stopped at the front desk.

"What room is John Watson in?" Sherlock asked and the nurse behind the counter and she stared at him with a very confused and concerned expression. Sherlock huffed in frustration before catching sight of his own reflection. He was quite a mess, his clothes were torn and he had little glass cuts everywhere. But Sherlock didn't have time for himself, John was far more important at the moment.

"Listen, I really don't have time for this. I need to know if my friend I alright _now._" Sherlock emphasized the last word to express his urgency. Right then a man in a hospital gown came charging into the lobby and Sherlock nearly fainted with relief. John was shouting at the nurse and doctor who were trying to get him to calm down.

"No! I will not calm down until you can tell me exactly where my friend Sherlock Holmes is and whether or not he is alright!" John yelled at the nurse who was trying to pull him away. Sherlock couldn't stop himself; he ran to John and hugged him like John would slip out of his arms if he didn't.

"Shrrlck?" John asked, his words muffled by Sherlock's coat which John's face was being smushed into.

"Thank-god you're alright." Sherlock whispered into John's sandy blonde hair.

"Ff crse Im Alrt. Rrr yu alrt?" John was still unable to talk because Sherlock refused to lessen his grip, but John didn't seem to mind. But unfortunately John's doctor did.

"Excuse me, but this man has a concussion. I'd prefer it if you didn't suffocate him." Sherlock glared at the doctor but released John who looked completely fine aside from the concussion and a few scrapes and some minor burns. Sherlock let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Wow, Sherlock you look awful." John said with a grin. Sherlock smiled back and followed John to his room while the nurse began to check Sherlock for wounds.

A few hours later John and Sherlock were both discharged with instructions to not get blown up again anytime soon (they didn't actually say that but it Sherlock inferred it). Gus had left ages ago so Sherlock hailed a cab and told the driver to take them to the Four Seasons. In the back of the cab Sherlock allowed his leg to lean against John's slightly, yet even that small amount of physical contact was enough to make Sherlock feel warm all over.

"So what happened after the explosion, is everyone else alright?" John asked. Sherlock frowned and realized that John was probably unaware of just how close to death he had been. Chances were that John just remembered waking up in the hospital after the blast without a clue of the events that had conspired.

"Yes everyone's quite alright. How about you?" Sherlock gazed out the window, or at least that's what it looked like he was doing. In reality he was gazing at John's reflection in the glass.

"Oh I'm fine. The concussion wasn't all that bad so I think I got off almost scot-free." John said cheerily and Sherlock grimaced.

"You don't know, do you?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

"Know what?" John asked, his smile disappearing.

"Your heart stopped John. For a full minute you weren't breathing and your heart wasn't beating." Sherlock said the words with a look of pain stamped on his face. John became pale after Sherlock said them and let out a weak 'oh' and stared out the window. John swallowed hard and Sherlock nudged him gently. Just to say it was alright. Sherlock knew that John wasn't really all that concerned about his own life or the fact of him nearly losing it. John was really worried about the memories it might bring back for Sherlock. After Sherlock had returned from the dead John hadn't forgiven him right away. John had said he would never forgive Sherlock for putting him through hell for three years and had slammed the door in Sherlock's face. After four or five times Sherlock snapped and forced his way into John's flat. He told John about how painful it had been for him as well, how John and the memories Sherlock had of them together were the only things that kept him going. He had broken down in front of John, displayed emotions he didn't even know he was capable of feeling and that was when he realized he was in love with John. Love was something Sherlock hadn't felt before so the emotion was frightening at first but after John forgave Sherlock, he decided not to fight it. Now they were in the back of a cab in America and Sherlock had almost lost John again; and they both knew they wouldn't be able to go on without each other. But neither of them dared to say it, so they just sat in companionable silence letting their knees brush, a silent vow to never leave the other's side.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: Congratulations! You have actually read up to this chapter! That makes you someone I want to live a very long time and be happy.  
Continue? I hope so, reviews are appreciated.**

Shawn was walking on air, or that's at least how the phrase went. He didn't really feel as though he was walking on anything. Shawn thought a more adequate description would be that he felt like he was swimming through carbonated pineapple juice. He felt energetic and tangy, sweet and zesty, weightless and tingly all over. Shawn only felt this way because a very handsome head detective had just said yes to a date. Or, at least, Shawn thought he had, it was hard to say. Lassie could be very confusing at times and the weird mixed signals weren't helping.

"Spencer! We have work to do! Stop grinning like an idiot and get over here!" Lassiter shouted to Shawn from the door to yet another room. Lassiter had checked the door for explosives that time and was currently trying to open it, to no avail. The door stayed firmly shut, locked from the inside. Lassiter took a few steps back and kicked it open. On the other side there was a man handcuffed to a chair, well, what was left of a man. The man that could only have been Knox was bruised and bloodied beyond recognition. Lassiter and Shawn rushed to his side and Shawn tried desperately to wake him up while Carlton undid the handcuffs. The man's eyes opened slowly and he looked up with an expression of confusion on his face.

"You found me?" The man asked, his raspy voice heavy with a British accent. Shawn just smiled at him reassuringly.

"Yeah, we found you man, and you're going to be alright so just try and stay awake." Shawn said as Knox's wrists were freed and he nodded in agreement. Lassie was on the phone moments after he had undone the handcuffs and was calling in an ambulance. Shawn slid his arm around Knox to support him and began to gingerly carry him towards the exit.

"You found me. Thank-you for finding me." Knox kept on muttering as Shawn half-dragged him out to the ambulance.

At the hospital the doctor was reading off an impossibly long list of injuries to Lassie. Shawn texted Gus that the case was (more-or-less) solved and Gus texted back: Yay! . Shawn sat down exhaustedly next to Carlton and rested his head on Lassie's shoulder.

"Well the case is solved. How about that drink?" Carlton asked, oddly not complaining about being Shawn's pillow. Shawn felt Lassie place his hand gently on top of Shawn's and looked into Shawn's eyes with a warmth Shawn didn't even know Carlton was capable of feeling. Shawn yawned and stretched, doing the cliché stretch over the date's shoulders move that guys had been employing for decades.

"Too tired, gonna go to bed." Shawn smiled up into Lassiter's beautiful blue eyes. Lassie leaned forward and kissed Shawn in a way that was impossibly gentle. Shawn tried to quash the butterflies in his stomach but they fluttered on and Shawn stretched up to Lassiter for another kiss. After it broke Lassiter smiled and said

"I've got a bed if you don't mind sharing." Shawn grinned and tugged on Lassie's tie until he tilted his head for another long kiss.

"I'd love to. But I'm going to tell you now that I'm a cover hog." Shawn said playfully.

"I don't mind." Lassiter said leaning down for another kiss.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Shawn kissed him and they left the hospital with their fingers interlaced.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: I just realized I forgot to say that I don't own Psych or Sherlock in quite a few of the past chapters. My bad. Well my short term memory isn't too great so for future reference I say I don't own Sherlock times infinity. And I went back in time to the previous chapters and wrote that in as well, you just don't remember.  
Be sure to leave a review!**

Thankfully the next morning Shawn had ditched the megaphone. When John woke up he still found Shawn, Gus, and Lassiter in the living room but something felt different. The air seemed less tense between Lassiter and Shawn; then again it might've just been the lack of a megaphone.

"Good morning sleeping beauty. How do you feel?" Shawn asked, John smiled and gave Shawn thumbs up to let him know he was alright. Sherlock came in and his eyes immediately fell on Shawn, then on Lassiter, then back to Shawn.

"Finally worked up the courage to confess?" Sherlock asked simply. Lassiter kissed Shawn's neck and winked at Sherlock. Shawn sighed and shook his head while Gus looked as though he was in severe need of an orange blanket. John smiled at them and asked

"What are you guys doing here? I thought the case was solved." Shawn laughed and stood up. He clapped a hand on John's shoulder and winked at him.

"Yes the case is solved, now it's celebration time!" John smiled as Shawn bounced around, clapping like a little boy on Christmas. Before John and Sherlock knew what was happening they were pulling into the parking lot of a pub by the name of Tom Blair's. Shawn and Lassiter smiled at each other as though they shared a secret and hopped out of the vehicle.

"Why are we here? Why don't we go someplace nice?" Gus asked, having recovered from his shock. Shawn frowned but Lassiter shrugged and began to walk down the street with his arm slung over Shawn's shoulders. Without answering Gus's question they all walked along, looking for someplace to eat. Suddenly Shawn stopped and Gus bumped into him and Lassiter, which in turn caused Sherlock and John to crash into all of them. After a quick moment to apologize everyone's eyes fell upon the building that had caught Shawn's attention. It had a gigantic pie for a roof and in bright letters the sign labeled it clearly as: The Pie Hole. Shawn didn't even ask the others, he just decided that that was where they were going and no one protested. They went through the double doors into the brightly lit restaurant and were immediately greeted by a perky waitress with blonde hair.

"Hi there, welcome to the pie hole. I'm Olive; I'll be your waitress this evening." She introduced herself with an enormous grin. She looked around the surprisingly busy restaurant and frowned when she couldn't find a table large enough to seat five.

"I'm sorry folks; we only have two seats at the counter and a table for two. You'll either have to wait or sit separately." She said apologetically. Shawn was about to say something when Lassiter cut him off.

"That's fine. Guster, you can pull up a chair and sit in a group of three at the table." Lassiter gave Shawn a quick kiss and grabbed Sherlock by his arm, dragging him over to the counter.

"Wait, don't you want to sit with Shawn?" John asked as Lassiter took Sherlock away.

"Later, I need to discuss something with Sherlock. John felt a little worried but went off to sit with Shawn and Gus anyway.

Lassiter plopped Sherlock down on one of the stools in front of the counter and Sherlock fixed his jacket with a distasteful grimace. Sherlock then proceeded to give Lassiter his best 'what do you want?' face.

"Oh don't give me that look; you know what I want to talk to you about." Lassiter said, rolling his eyes. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, Lassiter may not be the most skilled detective but he could read people like a book. This was very surprising considering how long it had taken for him to catch on about Shawn being in love with him. Sherlock did in fact know what Lassiter wanted, but Sherlock was not going to give it to him that easily.

"Humor me." Sherlock leaned on his palm and smiled at Lassiter, who sighed in return.

"When are you going to tell him?" Lassiter asked. Sherlock was actually confused, he had expected Lassiter to ask something along the lines of: "Did you know about Shawn this whole time?" or "Is Shawn really a psychic?" not _'When are you going to tell him?'_

"Tell who?" Sherlock asked, genuinely curious.

"John!" Lassiter seemed very frustrated that Sherlock didn't understand. But Sherlock remained confused and cocked his head in questioning. Lassiter sighed again

"When are you going to tell John that you love him?" All the blood drained from Sherlock's face and he stared like a deer in the headlights at Lassiter. Sherlock knew that Lassiter was right, there was no denying it, Sherlock was in love with John. Although not well acquainted with emotions Sherlock had managed to work out what the strange feelings he had for John were. Unfortunately if Lassiter told John, it might be disastrous.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sherlock said. For someone who could convince anyone of a lie, it was a terrible lie.

"Wow, that was probably the worst lie I've ever heard." Lassiter said. Sherlock felt his stomach churn nervously and opened his mouth to speak when a woman appeared at the counter. Not Olive, but a pretty brunette with a warm smile.

"What can I get you gentlemen?" She asked. That's when Sherlock noticed the menu that had been there the whole time, not that it mattered.

"Nothing." Sherlock stated grumpily. The woman raised her eyebrows and turned to Lassiter.

"How about you?" She asked. Lassiter glanced at his menu and ordered a slice of the triple berry. The brunette smiled again and went off to get the pie. Sherlock turned to Lassiter but was yet again cut off.

"Don't deny it, I may not be you or Shawn but I am still a detective and it wasn't that difficult to figure out." Lassiter said. Sherlock's stomach came to a queasy halt, now it felt heavy and cold. Sherlock swallowed his fear and put on a brave face for Lassiter.

"So when are you going to tell him?" Lassiter asked again.

"Never." Sherlock replied tersely. Lassiter gave him a confused look.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because he might not love me back, in fact he probably doesn't, and if I tell him he may decide to leave and never come back." Sherlock looked Lassiter hard in the eye. "And I couldn't take that. I just couldn't." Lassiter's confused expression dissipated and Sherlock gave him a sad smile.

"He might feel the same." Lassiter suggested, but it was half-hearted.

"Yes, he might. But what if he doesn't? I'm not willing to risk losing him completely for a love he might not reciprocate." Sherlock laughed bitterly and put his head in his hands. He had never taken the time to let it sink in that he might never have John. He may have to settle for what he had rather than risk losing it all. And it made Sherlock die a little inside to know he might not ever get to hold John in his arms the way he had always wanted to. The brunette dropped off Lassiter's pie and was about to walk away when she saw Sherlock.

"Oh boy, I know that expression." She said and Sherlock looked up into her eyes.

"That's the 'I'll never be able to hold the person I love' expression." Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her.

"How would you know?" Sherlock asked her.

"Because that's the expression I see every day in the mirror." She said sadly and Sherlock looked into her eyes again. He saw it then, that odd sort of pain that he felt whenever he allowed himself to think of John in that way. Just then a tall man with brown hair walked up and smiled at the three of them. Sherlock immediately identified him as the pie maker; He smiled especially wide at the girl.

"I hope Chuck isn't bothering you." He said. Chuck giggled and Sherlock and Lassiter shook their heads. The pie maker looked at the empty space in front of Sherlock and frowned.

"Aren't you going to have any pie?" He asked.

"No, sorry." Sherlock said, adding in the 'sorry' reluctantly.

"Why don't you try one of my cup pies? They come in any flavor on the menu. They even have my home-made honey baked into the crust; I have my very own bees." Chuck suggested. Sherlock's head perked up at that statement.

"Bees?" Sherlock asked. Chuck nodded and Sherlock gave the menu a quick glance.

"I'll have one apple cup pie." He said and the pie maker went off to go get it.

"Why'd you change your mind?" Chuck asked and Sherlock shrugged.

"I have some interest in beekeeping." He said and Chuck smiled widely. "Although I don't understand what you mean when you say you can never hold the one you love. It's quite obvious your affections are reciprocated." Sherlock inquired after a moment's pause.

"We have a peculiar situation." Chuck responded with a sad glance at the pie maker.

"Although you ought to give love a chance with whomever you're longing after, before it's too late." Chuck patted Sherlock's hand and walked off to bake pies for the many customers. The pie maker slid a warm apple cup pie over to Sherlock and Sherlock took a bite. He looked over at John longingly as he chewed and the warm honey crust and crisp apple filling made him feel just a little bit better.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: …Oh… did you think I was going to say something? Sorry, no.**

It was their last day in Santa Barbara; well really their last couple minutes because they only had a little bit of time before they were supposed to leave for the airport. Sherlock (at John's request) was thanking the chief for letting them work on the case and John was giving the details of the kidnapping to Mycroft over the phone.

"What about the kidnappers?" John asked Mycroft, the question had been bothering him ever since he had heard that Knox had been found alone.

"It's out of your hands now John, just come back to London. Lestrade says he has a case waiting for you." Mycroft answered and hung up without another word. John glared at his phone as though it were Mycroft but decided that Mycroft probably wouldn't feel it if he threw the phone at the wall so that wasn't a very smart thing to do. John slipped his phone into his pocket and went to go retrieve Sherlock. He was stopped by detective Lassiter and the man pulled him over to a corner.

"Lassiter what are you doing?" John asked as Carlton peeked around the corner like he was being watched.

"John, there's something I need to tell you before you go back to London." Lassiter whispered to John.

"What? And why are you whispering?" John asked with a frown. Lassiter shushed him and leaned in so their noses were almost touching.

"It's about Sherlock, he-" Lassiter didn't get the chance to finish because Sherlock rounded the corner causing both John and Lassiter to jump.

"Conspiring are we?" Sherlock asked with a sly smile. He gave Lassiter a quick look that John didn't have time to identify but judging by the way Lassiter's face paled, it couldn't have been good.

"Come on John, we have a plane to catch." Sherlock grabbed John by the arm and led him towards the door. John just barely had time to shout 'thank-you and goodbye' over his shoulder to the people of the Santa Barbara police department and as he did he saw Lassiter's face again. It looked like he was sorry for something, and he was staring straight at John. John didn't have time to register what that might mean because he was immediately bombarded by Shawn and Gus.

"Johnny!" Shawn called and John tried not to flinch at the familiar and unpleasant pet name. John pried himself from Sherlock's grasp and shook Shawn's hand firmly. He shook Gus's too but before he could say anything else Sherlock dragged him into the truck. John waved at Shawn and Gus out of the window as Sherlock sped off towards the airport. John threw Sherlock a confused glance, he seemed awfully eager to get the heck out of Santa Barbara. John brushed away the thoughts as Sherlock not being a big fan of heartfelt goodbyes, of heartfelt anything really. Sherlock just detested with all things sentimental, a painful reminder of the love John felt that Sherlock would never be able to return. After a while John looked out of the window and glanced into the rear-view mirror at the rapidly disappearing city of Santa Barbara. He was going to miss it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Teehee, I hope you didn't think it was over, because it's obviously not. There is more.  
Speaking of more, more reviews are always good!**

Pain.

No, that wasn't right he wasn't supposed to be feeling pain. Sherlock searched his memory, what was he supposed to be feeling? Anger at Lassiter for almost telling John about his affections? No. Boredom for having just completed a case? No. Concern for John, who was bleeding upside down beside Sherlock? Sherlock's eyes flew open and his head whipped to the side to see John unconscious in the passenger seat of the truck. There was a little blood running down his face, but it was from a cut he had received earlier in the explosion. Then everything came rushing back to Sherlock: driving, spotting the familiar SUV that was following him, and being painfully rear-ended, sending him swerving off of the highway. Sherlock struggled against his safety belt I order to get to John, but he was held in place firmly. Although the car was upside down, it had sustained practically no damage; it really was built like a tank. Sherlock mentally thanked Mycroft (because he would never do it out loud) and finally freed himself from the safety belt. Sherlock fell neck first onto the roof of the car and groaned painfully. Then he heard the voices of people, initially he was hopeful they were coming to help, but then he saw their shoes and knew that wasn't the case. They were the people who had kidnapped Knox, the slight stains of blood, mud, and dust informed Sherlock of that. Sherlock began to work his way over to John who was still unconscious; he never made it to him. Sherlock was seized suddenly by the ankles and dragged backward out of the car. He tried desperately to grab hold of something, perhaps to wake John so he could get out of there before it was too late, but Sherlock's body refused to cooperate. His hands moved sluggishly, as though he were in water and his legs wouldn't twist free of his attacker's hands as his brain had instructed them to. Sherlock was dragged out of the door of the jeep and forced to his feet by a thuggish looking man with biceps the size of small dogs. Sherlock glanced over to where John was being pulled from the vehicle none-too-delicately. That finally set Sherlock's body in motion, he shook free of his attacker's grasp and proceeded to grab him by the head and knee him in the face. The man crumpled to the ground and Sherlock ran to where John was, and punched one of the men lugging John's limp body in the jaw. He went down for a moment but the other man was all over Sherlock in the blink of an eye. Sherlock managed to throw him to the ground and was about to rush to John when he felt the cold metal of a gun being pressed to the back of his head. Sherlock raised his hands in the air and the unseen assailant with the gun behind Sherlock spoke.

"Why don't you make this easier on yourself and tell me the code." He said.

"Code?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't think Mycroft involved himself with anything as utterly ordinary as codes. It was always plans or encrypted files or something along those lines; always more dramatic than just _codes_.

"Yes, the code for the bank account." The man responded, sounding rather irritated.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Sherlock said, trying to sound truthful with a statement that sounded rather like a lie.

"Oh please, you know the guy's name was Knox. That's because he had info on riches you wouldn't believe. I know you know so spit it out already." The man pressed the barrel of his gun against Sherlock's head for emphasis.

"I'm sorry to disappoint but I honestly don't know." Sherlock said, knowing he was going to regret those words. The man didn't say anything but made some imperceptible motion behind Sherlock that resulted in a swift kick to John's stomach. John grunted painfully but his eyes remained shut.

"How about now?" The man asked, Sherlock shook his head and John was kicked again. Sherlock did his best to act uncaring like he would if this were most anyone else in the world (namely Anderson or Donovan) but this wasn't anyone else, this was John, and John was being hurt.

"How about now?" The man asked again.

"I don't know and no amount of torture will cause me to say otherwise." Sherlock said, keeping his voice level. The man sighed behind him and said

"You know that means I'm gonna kill you. You don't give me what I want, you become useless to me. And I don't keep around people who are useless to me." Sherlock's mind was working at a thousand miles an hour, had been since the man had put the gun up to his head, and he needed to think of something to get John and himself out of this situation. Then the man said something that interrupted Sherlock's thoughts.

"Y'know you could've just run." Sherlock frowned at the man's statement.

"When you got your legs back you could've just run, left your friend behind." The man was American; he was slightly shorter than Sherlock because the sound of his voice was coming from behind and below. Sherlock was trying not to listen to the man's words, but rather focus on the information that could be gathered from his voice and used against him to escape.

"I mean, it's not as if he's all that important." The man said and Sherlock froze. He felt immediate anger at the man. He was so angry he didn't even hear the rest of what the man said, it was something about Sherlock being the real brains and John didn't really add anything, that John was worthless.

"How dare you." Sherlock cut the man off and would've laughed at the clichéness of that statement had the circumstances been different.

"You don't know anything about him; you don't have any right to say those things. I guarantee that he is ten million times more valuable than you and any of your thugs." Sherlock spoke through clenched teeth; his voice was a whole octave lower as he seethed with rage.

"You're all idiots if you don't see just how amazing John is. Yes John may be scarred, both psychologically and physically, but John is the strongest, smartest, most beautiful person on earth." Sherlock wasn't about to let these idiots say otherwise. It happened before the leader had time to say another word; Sherlock felt the anger coursing through his veins and he knocked the gun from the man's hands. He kicked the man's knee and it buckled with a sickening crack. Sherlock scooped the gun off the ground and fired two shots, one for each of the henchmen. It wasn't as clean as it might've been if John had done it but all four of the attackers were out for the count.

"SBPD freeze!" Came a familiar voice from behind Sherlock and he turned to see Carlton Lassiter sprinting towards him, gun in hand. Sherlock looked down at the crippled leader to see a second gun being lowered, in his rage Sherlock had forgotten to check for a second gun. Sherlock would smack himself in the forehead for it later; right now John was the most important thing. Sherlock rushed to his side and was surprised when John sat up and smiled painfully at Sherlock. John groaned and gingerly placed his hands on his ribs. Sherlock checked them hurriedly and was pleased to find that none were broken.

"Probably just bruised." John said with another pained grin. Sherlock wanted to hug John, or kiss him. Kissing would be preferable but Sherlock would settle for hugging. Unfortunately hugging wasn't an option with the amount of pain John was in so Sherlock gave him a pat on the back, hardly adequate. Sherlock turned when he heard the sound of handcuffs being snapped into place behind him.

"How did you find us Lassiter?" John asked. Lassiter handed off the leader to McNab (yes Sherlock knew McNab, Sherlock needed someone retrieve the jeep after Gus 'borrowed' it) and McNab practically carried him off to the squad car.

"Shawn had a vision." Lassiter said with a shrug. All three of them didn't think Shawn was a psychic, but he did some pretty supernatural stuff on occasion.

"You know if we can flip the car back over it would probably run just fine." John said as Sherlock helped him to his feet.

"Oh it's easy, just press the x button." Shawn said from behind them. John smiled at him broadly and Sherlock was mildly happy to see him.

"So how did you know about this really?" Sherlock asked and Shawn placed his fingers cheesily to his temple. Sherlock gave him a _'no seriously, I know you're not psychic' _look and Shawn nodded acknowledgingly.

"I saw the SUV following you and recognized the plates." Shawn said and Sherlock frowned at him. Shawn sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat.

"And I got some random text from your brother saying you were here." Sherlock sighed and shook his head.

"Really? I'm surprised it took him so long to get here." John said and everyone chuckled. They all walked off and crammed themselves into the blueberry. They drove off to the precinct to convict some criminals.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: Perhaps I oughtta be nicer to poor little John. I mean, first blown up and then beat up. Poor guy, what did he do to deserve that? I am blaming those chapters on my sleep defying hands, blame them for John's maltreatment.  
Reviews, reviews, reviews for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Don't make me go hungry.**

Sherlock was pretty happy despite not having a case to work on and having just been lectured by Mycroft about being more careful. John was alright and the men who had been determined to break into a (classified) government vault and steal a lot of (classified) money with a (classified) code which (classified) Knox (classified) possessed. Sherlock was standing outside the interrogation room where man-with-corgi-sized-biceps was being questioned.

"Did you mean what you said?" John asked and Sherlock spun around to see him. Sherlock cocked his head inquisitively and John blushed slightly.

"About me being… you know… amazing." John looked away and Sherlock felt himself blushing as well.

"So… you weren't unconscious?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head, still not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

"No, just waiting for the opportune moment to strike." Sherlock chuckled but John continued to gaze at the floor. "And just for the record, and I know I've said it many times before, but you're amazing too." Sherlock blushed even more and looked up and was met by John's blue eyes. John's eyes were never quite the same, they were constantly changing color, and it was just one of the many things Sherlock loved about John. Right now John was looking at Sherlock intensely with a look that meant something Sherlock couldn't quite identify, but Sherlock got the feeling it was important. All of Sherlock's body was urging him to move forward but as always his brain was warning him about the dangers that existed. But for once in Sherlock's life he told his brain to shut up and he went with his body. He took a step forward, wrapped his arms around John, and kissed him gently on the lips. Sherlock pulled back and began to step back.

"I'm sorry, I just-" John cut him off by grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him in for a long kiss. Sherlock felt like he was melting in John's arms, his whole body felt warm and he wanted nothing more than to just stay there in John's embrace forever.

"So you…" Sherlock mumbled after the kiss broke.

"Yeah Sherlock, I love you." John said and his arms wrapped around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock didn't know how to respond to that, he had never said those three words to anyone, and before John he had never wanted to. But it was still frightening, Sherlock had never been very good with his emotions and he was worried he might mess it up if he tried to describe what he was feeling. So instead he just said

"Yes." John frowned at him.

"Sorry, what?" He asked.

"I did mean what I said earlier." Sherlock knew it wasn't exactly what he was feeling, but it was close enough that John understood. John smiled and kissed Sherlock again, this time allowing their tongues to mingle.

"Jeez, aren't there any straight men in this precinct?" Came the voice of a woman off to the side of Sherlock. He turned to see the blonde woman from the beginning of the case, O'Hara he thinks is her name, standing there with an amused look on her face.

"Shawn wants you to meet him at the Pie Hole, whatever that means." She said with a warm mile letting Sherlock know that John and his little PDA stunt was quite alright. Sherlock untangled himself from John and nodded at the woman. She walked away and Sherlock wove his fingers into Johns; they left the precinct hand in hand.

Shawn's first thought when he saw Sherlock walk in with his hand clasped around Johns was _finally. _John and Sherlock joined Gus, Lassiter and Shawn in the booth. Lassiter actually said 'finally' and Gus, ever the last to know, just stared in confusion at everyone.

"You mean you knew the whole time?" Gus asked, Lassie and Shawn laughed and nodded. Sherlock wrapped his arm around John and pulled him close, smiling contentedly. A pretty brunette woman that Shawn hadn't seen last time walked over to take their orders, when she saw Sherlock she grinned from ear-to-ear.

"Oh hello again!" She said cheerily and Sherlock nodded at her. She caught Sherlock's eye and her grin grew even wider.

"The expression's gone." She said, and although Shawn didn't know what she was talking about, he had a feeling it had to do with John. Sherlock nodded and threw John a loving glance. She looked sad for a moment as she looked over towards a man baking in the kitchen. Shawn and Lassie ordered two slices of the triple berry, Gus a slice of rhubarb, John a slice of apple pie, and Sherlock ordered an apple cup pie. They ate their pie and chatted about various things and then the brunette waitress came by to check on them. Sherlock leaned in and whispered to her, but Shawn could read Sherlock's lips. He said

"Give it time, you and him are meant for each other, you'll get the chance." Shawn knew that Sherlock wasn't a very emotionally expressive person, even from their short period of time together, so whatever he said to her meant, it meant a lot. "That was some of the best pie I've ever eaten. What did you think Sherly?" Shawn asked with a loving smile in Lassiter's direction.

"Yes it was quite good, but don't call me Sherly." Shawn and everyone at the table burst into laughter. Sherlock just sat there looking confused and had to ask what five times before he got an answer.

"You have a habit of doing that." Shawn said between spurts of laughter.

"Doing what?" Sherlock asked, completely baffled.

"Being wonderful." John responded, giving Sherlock a kiss on the cheek. Sherlock kissed John gently which earned a lot of odd looks from people in the restaurant. Shawn kissed Lassiter's nose playfully and Gus made a grossed out face like a little kid before breaking out into laughter. Sherlock smiled and John laughed, Shawn would be sad to see them go but it was unavoidable, they were Londoners, they couldn't stay in Santa Barbara. When everyone finished eating they sat back and Shawn sighed contentedly. A solved case, a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend, a best friend, two new British friends and pie. Life was pretty good.

John didn't want to sit on a plane for nine hours, but it was unfortunately necessary to get back to Baker Street. Shawn waved to Sherlock and John as they boarded the plane. Shawn kissed Lassiter's cheek and John kissed Sherlock's.

"So long Captain Holmes the impaler!" Shawn shouted as they walked away. John entwined his fingers with Sherlock and asked

"What was that about?" Sherlock just smiled.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: A little explanation for the ending of the last chapter. Also thanks for reading this whole thing, hope you liked it. I'm so sad to see you go…*sob* parting is such sweet sorrow.  
Also, it's not too late to post a review, or another review.  
Thanks again! Farewell until next time.**

1984

Shawn and Gus were running around, having a grand old time when all of a sudden.  
BAM!  
They collided with two other kids.

"Oi! Watch were you're going!" One of the kids said from underneath Shawn. Gus picked himself up off of a kid with curly black hair. Shawn was shoved off the top of a much older boy with combed brown hair. They were both British judging by their accents. The brunette one snatched an umbrella off of the ground and stalked off. The curly haired boy gave Shawn a shy smile and glanced behind him conspiratorially and whispered something to Shawn.

"I've got about an hour; do you want to play pirates?" The boy asked and both Shawn and Gus nodded vigorously.  
The black-haired boy was the best pirate Shawn had ever played with, the British accent might have helped but there was no denying that he made a great pirate.

"You should be a pirate when you grow up!" Shawn said excitedly after the boy made Gus walk the plank (for the third time). The boy grinned and nodded eagerly.

"Absolutely, that sounds fun." Shawn and him got back to their sword fight and the boy talked while they fought.

"I'd be the richest, most fearsome, coolest pirate in the whole world." The boy grinned mischievously and tripped Shawn to the ground, holding an imaginary sword to Shawn's throat.

"I'd be called Captain Holmes… the impaler." Shawn and the boy giggled as Gus "swam" back around onto the boat.

"And I'd be your first mate, Shawn the skewerer." Gus walked up to them and frumped as the boy slit Shawn's throat.

"Shawn!" Came the voice of Shawn's dad and he walked over to the three playing boys.

"Sorry kiddo it's time to go home." All three of them awwed in disappointment and the older boy from before walked up and nodded to Shawn's dad.

"Come along Sherlock." Sherlock pouted but waved to Shawn as he walked away. Shawn's dad tousled Shawn's hair and began to walk away.

"Dad, can they come back and play tomorrow?" Shawn asked as he walked back towards the house.

"I don't think so kiddo, we probably won't see them ever again." Shawn glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Shawn wasn't psychic, but he thought otherwise.

Fin!


End file.
